


The Good Kind of Scarrie

by caprice_fiddleback



Category: Sex and the City (TV), The X-Files
Genre: Bisexual Dana Scully, Crossover, Dorks in Love, F/F, First Time, Lesbian Sex, No Lesbians Die, Toronto, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29002986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caprice_fiddleback/pseuds/caprice_fiddleback
Summary: The ship you never knew you needed?
Relationships: Carrie Bradshaw/Dana Scully
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

Carrie stared at the upload on her screen. Still 21 minutes left.

She sighed, leaned back, then remembering something, scooched up her chair.

Carrie opened a search window and typed out _plaid shirts_. She tapped two fingers to her chin and added _fashionable_ hoping this wasn’t an oxymoron.

She scrolled through some vendors while pondering if she could pull off the look.

“Carrie, you ready?”

It was her co-worker, Akira. In a flash, Carrie minimized her screen and then shaming her shame reopened it and spun around to face her friend.

Akira smirked.

“Never really took you for a lumbersexual.”

Carrie recovered and cocked an eyebrow.

“Just finding a suitable outfit to celebrate my first anniversary in Canada.”

Like Carrie knew she would, Akira rolled her eyes at the weak joke. Akira was even more of a city girl than Carrie and had no patience for American stereotypes of the Canadian backwoods. 

“Whatever. Let’s head out.”

Carrie studied her upload status. 20 minutes. She explained that she needed to wait until her project files were uploaded for the new exhibition. Akira glanced at the time and Carrie knew she was worried about being late for a friend who arrived tonight from out of town.

“It’s OK, you can go. I’ll lock up.”

Akira gave her a serious look. She knew Carrie hated being in the museum alone, especially at night.

“Seriously, you don’t want to be late. I’ll be fine.”

This was a lie.

After Akira left, Carrie tried to distract herself by recognizing that she had, in fact, been in Canada for almost an entire year.

Her move to Toronto had not been planned. After marrying Big and living with him for a few years, she had discovered that their relationship had evolved into something new. Something, unfortunately, non-sexual. Following several sessions with a therapist, and many Esther Perel podcast episodes later, Carrie and Big had concluded that this development wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. They had decided that, while they were no longer lovers, they could still be family. 

Around the same time, the Bata Shoe Museum in Toronto offered Carrie a guest curator role for the Manolo Blahnik exhibition. It seemed like a good opportunity to get some space and time to reflect. After the exhibition, the museum offered her a permanent position as Senior Curator and Carrie surprised herself by accepting.

Drifting back to the present, Carrie gazed out the window at Bloor Street. It was snowing. There were some lost looking freshmen from the University of Toronto puzzling at their phones—

A noise. Carrie whipped back to face the room. It was just a pencil that rolled off a desk. Totally normal thing to happen, Carrie reasoned, in a completely still room. She decided she needed some moral support and reached for her phone.

When Miranda greeted her on FaceTime, Carrie saw that she wasn’t alone. Her two other best friends, Samantha and Charlotte, peered into the camera. Carrie spotted cocktail glasses and felt a punch of envy.

“Carrie,” Samantha said noticing, “don’t you dare be jealous. These two are already in their pajamas.”

Samantha tilted the camera down to prove her point. 

Carrie smiled. Samantha continued to be the most vocally opposed to Carrie’s move, complaining that the only time they ever went out now was when Carrie visited. Carrie suspected Samantha was much more content about the decrease of their nighttime outings than she let on. In the last year alone, she had taken up pottery, tai chi, and – to everyone’s surprise – stand-up comedy. As Samantha noted, “Controlling a room with just words and a microphone…it’s hot.”

Miranda, always sensitive to her best friend’s moods, could tell something else was wrong.

“What is it Carrie?”

Carrie wasn’t quite ready to admit that she was convinced her museum was haunted. So, she raised another topic that had been on her mind. “I think I want to start sleeping with women. Maybe even dating them.” 

Her friends gaped back at her.

“Big is the man of my life. And I don’t want any other men. Not anymore. I thought maybe this meant I was done with all of it. But, I’m not. I mean sex doesn’t end at 48!”

Samantha nodded with conviction.

“And, you know, I’ve always loved women. So maybe I could _love_ women. I just need to…”

Carrie motioned a hand trying to find the words.

“I mean, how do I make myself—”

“Want to fuck women?” offered Samantha.

Carrie conceded with a half-smile. “Close enough.” 

Then she found herself leveling an inquiring look at Miranda. She noticed.

“Don’t look at me! Ask our resident lesbian expert.”

She tilted her head towards Samantha but before she could respond Charlotte jumped in.

“And what makes you think I don’t know anything about this?”

Charlotte tilted her head up, trying to look confident and inscrutable. Miranda side-eyed her.

“Please enlighten us.”

Charlotte plunged in.

“Harry and I arrange a threesome twice a year with a lovely woman named Melissa. She’s really helped with Harry’s confidence at oral sex. But, I’ve never…you know...”

Charlotte dropped her voice furtively.

“… _ate her pussy_.”

Miranda whispered back, “Worried the pussy police are listening?”

Carrie laughed but Samantha was ready to get down to business.

“Here’s what you do. We’ve all had the experience of meeting a woman who you can’t help but admire. Maybe it’s her fashion or her attitude. Whatever it is, you feel yourself desiring her approval.”

Everyone nodded in understanding and she continued.

“The next time that happens, Carrie, take that feeling and just—”

Samantha raised her eyebrows.

“Make it sexy.” 

Carrie mimicked Samantha’s eyebrow raise. “You’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

Samantha went on, “Let yourself notice her in—”

Her eyes sparked and her voice dropped.

“ _A sensual way_.”

Samantha made sure she had everyone’s avid attention before continuing. “Look at how her clothes cling to her. How good she smells…”

Carrie saw Miranda lean in.

“The texture of her hair. Her skin.”

Samantha sat up straight and waved her hand in conclusion. “That kind of thing.”

Carrie looked over at Miranda and asked her what she thought. Miranda let out a breath.

“I mean I just got turned on by that description.”

Carrie laughed, glanced up at her computer screen and her online browsing. She furrowed her brow.

“Do I have to—” She hesitated. “Do I have to wear plaid?”

“Carrie,” Miranda said seriously, “No.”

“Janelle Monáe wore plaid in Moonlight,” Charlotte offered.

Carrie expressed that she was worried both that women wouldn’t know she was interested in other women _and_ that she might not be welcomed in the club without the proper outfit. Samantha had a firm response to this.

“Honey, you are Carrie fucking Bradshaw, any woman would be lucky to have her fingers up inside you.”

Before Carrie could respond, some movement caught her eye. She turned and refocused her vision on an impossible sight.

Carrie screamed.

In a flash, she snatched her phone and keys and sprinted to the landing. Though no amateur at taking stairs in heels, in her alarm Carrie nearly toppled down the two flights several times. She didn’t take a full breath until she made it outside.

Dazed, she remembered her phone which she’d been clutching during her escape. She leveled the camera to her face. Miranda was losing it.

“What the hell is going on Carrie?!”

Carrie found herself overcome with the exhilaration at finally getting to say it out loud.

“THERE’S A FUCKING GHOST IN MY MUSEUM!”

Carrie’s strange outburst startled some passersby and for the first time in months she deeply missed the unflappability of New Yorkers. 

Carrie called her friends again once she was safely back home. She explained that over the past few months strange things happened every time she stayed late to work by herself. And, tonight, she absolutely, positively saw a ghost.

“What did it look like?” This was Miranda trying and failing to mask her skepticism with curiosity.

“Wispy and transparent. Floating,” Carrie grasped, “I dunno, like a freaking ghost!”

Miranda put up her hands in surrender. Samantha chimed in, “Carrie, we love and support you.”

Carrie gave her a perplexed look. “And??”

Samantha shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what else to say."

Charlotte who had been looking in with extreme interest finally spoke up.

“You know, this exact thing happened to my friend Leela who works in the Modern and Contemporary Art wing of the Met. She brought in some experts who got rid of the problem. I’m not exactly sure how…but I can get you their phone number.”

Carrie looked in wonder at her friend. Between the three of them Carrie had yet to uncover a problem they couldn’t solve, or in the very least, have an opinion about. She gushed into the screen.

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” 


	2. Chapter 2

The next week went by without incident. On Friday afternoon Carrie and Akira were the last in the office.

“I think they’re here.” Akira spied out the window.

Carrie had wanted to keep her ghostbusting visitors a secret, but she eventually spilled all to her favourite coworker.

Akira packed up her things and followed Carrie downstairs. Before arriving at the entrance, she spotted the chair of the museum board, Jarrett Thompson.

Carrie and Akira loathed this man. He was relentlessly condescending to women and somehow kept dodging their attempts to get him pushed out. Akira, who had more years of enduring this man, referred to him only as Jar Jar Dinks. Carrie, not being much of a Star Wars aficionado, evolved the nickname into Dinkface, Dinkhead or simply The Dink.

“Dink alert,” warned Akira in an undertone.

Before Carrie could do anything, The Dink noticed the strangers at the front entrance and opened the door. In a panic, Carrie quietly brainstormed a cover story at the bottom of the stairs.

But it turned out there was no need. These two former FBI agents were slick. Clearly, they were well used to being discreet with clients and appeared to handle the inquiries of The Dink with no issue.

Carrie took the opportunity to get a good look at them. They were both about her age. The man, Mulder – Charlotte informed her that they answer only to their last names – looked very familiar. Before she could figure that out her attention was drawn to the woman – Scully – when Carrie heard the familiar condescending tone of the Dinkhead.

Carrie felt guilty that she and Akira were lurking in the shadows instead of intervening, but a curiosity held her in place.

Scully’s demeanor registered as completely unperturbed by Jarrett’s disrespectful tone. They couldn’t fully hear the conversation, but the confident tones of Scully’s voice drifted over.

“…I’m sure Ms. Bradshaw is more than capable…”

Carrie couldn’t hear the rest but marveled at the other woman’s ability to sound both firm and bored. When it was clear to The Dink that Mulder wasn’t going to contradict his partner, Jarrett Thompson slinked out of the building.

Noticing the awe on Carrie’s face, Akira whispered, “Better order that plaid shirt express.” Then she squeezed her arm in goodbye and exited the museum.

After the introductions Carrie led the duo to her office. Mulder asked her a series of questions while Scully poked around. Carrie kept half an eye, and mind, on the red headed woman.

“Have you made any controversial changes since you took over as Senior Curator?”

Carrie forced her attention back to Mulder and considered the question. The only thing she could think of was her decision to end a program to offer free museum passes to the library. As she was explaining this to Mulder a terrifying thought suddenly hit her.

She tried for casual, “So how long have you both been in New York?”

Mulder explained that they recently relocated after leaving the Bureau in DC. Carrie experienced a rush of relief. It had occurred to her that Mulder looked exactly like one of her ex-boyfriends. Must just be a doppelganger.

“Ms. Bradshaw, you say you witnessed the apparition in this alcove?”

This was Scully clearly ready to move on from any personal chat. After Carrie clarified the location of her sighting, the two former agents took some photos and occasionally made quiet comments to each other. Carrie wondered how long they had worked together.

She also took the moment to examine Scully. She was an objectively attractive woman. Nice hair and skin. Full lips. Intelligent eyes. Though she was about Carrie’s height, which didn’t seem ideal somehow.

Carrie remembered Samantha’s suggestion and took a closer look at Scully’s body and outfit. This seemed like a dead end as the woman was basically wearing a baggy trench coat.

And then, Scully took the coat off.

Carrie, who had been watching Scully so intently, backed into a desk in astonishment.

Goddamn.

This woman wore the hell out of a white blouse.

Before Carrie could collect herself, Mulder turned around to ask another question. Carrie straightened herself up, praying he didn’t notice her checking his partner out.

Mulder gave her a curious look but then his phone rang and he answered. 

“Hey, Nadeem!” 

Scully flashed Mulder a look of annoyance at the personal tone of the call. Mulder asked his friend to hold on before addressing the women.

“Dr. Sharif is an expert on institutional phantoms. I believe he’ll be able to assist in Ms. Bradshaw’s disturbance.”

He paused then continued with an unreadable expression.

“Scully, while I consult Dr. Sharif you should take Ms. Bradshaw out for dinner.”

Carrie’s heart started to race. Scully gave Mulder a suspicious look and so he added:

“To finish up questioning.”

Then he got back on the phone and made plans to meet up with Dr. Sharif presently. In a flash he told Scully he would see her at the hotel later and to Carrie that he expected they would be able to fix her problem before the end of the weekend.

This left Carrie and Scully standing in awkward silence. Carrie finally worked up the nerve to speak.

“I know a great place in Little India…”

Scully grabbed her coat and gave her a lead-the-way gesture.

In the cab there was, again, an awkward silence. Carrie thought Scully seemed annoyed.

“So, how do you like New York?” Carrie ventured.

“It’s crowded and noisy and the subways are always delayed.”

Glancing over at Carrie, and likely noticing the hurt on her face, Scully tried for a more convivial tone, “Mulder mentioned that you used to live there. What did you enjoy about it?”

Carrie smiled. Now, this was some safe territory.

“I love how New York is full of possibility. I love its honesty. I love how many kinds of people live there.”

She watched Scully carefully to assess the impact of her words. Unfortunately, she looked unimpressed.

“You know, people say those kinds of things about New York City but the same could be true about many large urban centers. This one, for example.”

Carrie felt heat rush to her face, embarrassed that she was putting in an effort for someone so clearly uninterested. Fine, if Scully wanted to continue the conversation, she was going to have to work for it.

The taxi arrived in front of the restaurant and Carrie gave her companion a cool look.

“I’ll tell you one thing I miss about New York.”

She unlatched the door.

“My husband.”


	3. Chapter 3

Seated across from each other, Carrie could feel Scully’s piercing examination while she feigned interest in the menu.

It was still early so the restaurant was not busy. Lahore Tikka House was Carrie's favourite restaurant in Toronto, despite it being the kind of place she likely would not have frequented while living in New York. While the food at Lahore Tikka House had earned loyal patrons, one would never describe the dining environment as classy. Seemingly forever in renovation, the dinnerware was usually paper plates and plastic utensils.

It occurred to Carrie that she actually had spare cutlery in her bag. It was a remnant of one of her and Akira's efforts to undermine Dinkface after he blocked a meager budget upgrade for staff room kitchen supplies.

He claimed to not understand why staff couldn't go out for lunches. When Carrie and Akira pointed out that not everyone can afford that kind of lifestyle, he gruffly rebuked, "Well, then, bring your own kitchenware."

At the beginning of the next all-staff meeting, Akira cleared her throat and requested a pen from Carrie. Carrie pulled out a large pencil case with an oversized velcro seal: she ripped it open and dumped out pens, pencils, and a full cutlery set causing a ripple of snickers.

Later, while Carrie commended Akira on her sewing skills for the comically over-velcro'd pencil case, she suggested a new identity moonlighting as an entrepreneur of passive-aggressive handicrafts: “You could call it Petty Etsy.”

As Carrie unearthed the prop cutlery from her handbag, it occurred to her that Scully might find this behaviour a tad unusual. Then she remembered she wanted to play this cool and confident.

She slammed the knife, spoon, and fork on the table like a winning poker hand. A startled Scully met her eyes.

“That’s rather unconventional.”

Carrie cocked an eyebrow preparing a clever retort, but Scully cut her off.

“With your husband, I mean. Living in different cities must be challenging.”

It felt like a win getting Scully to admit any kind of personal curiosity. Carrie let the moment linger long enough for Scully to finally add, “Not that it’s any of my business.”

Despite the addendum, Scully's expression was remarkably free of embarrassment or bashfulness. Carrie marveled at the other woman's self-possession.

"No, I'm happy to share. As long as we're talking quid pro quo, Clarice."

Carrie immediately regretted reaching for a Silence of the Lambs line of all things. She would have hoped her seduction skills were a little more refined than quoting a cannibal.

In a flutter of awareness, Carrie realized that she was, indeed, attempting to flirt with a woman. 

While Carrie was undergoing this sexual reawakening, Scully looked ready to steer the conversation back to business.

Carrie finally noticed and snapped out of her lesbian reverie in time to plunge ahead. Before she could really get into things the server arrived. After he took their order Scully excused herself to the bathroom.

In her absence, Carrie frantically opened her WhatsApp group chat with her friends and typed.

Just then Carrie spotted Scully exiting the restroom door. She quickly hid her phone away into her handbag. She would have to update her friends later.

As she watched Scully return to the table she pondered Samantha's final comment. Did Scully like women? Carrie had sensed something between her and Mulder but she didn't know enough to draw any conclusions.

Scully relaxed into her seat, gave Carrie a mildly encouraging look and asked if she wished to continue. Carrie was pleased.

If there was one thing Carrie Bradshaw could do, it was monologue about Big.

She told Scully everything. The ups and downs of their relationship. The betrayals. The lust and joys. How her friends stood by her through it all.

Carrie wrapped up by describing this new phase of her life.

"I think part of why I took the job in Toronto was to find out who I am without him."

She cocked her head in thought. She'd never expressed these things out loud before.

"No, not without him. We're still close. I think I wanted to try out a life and career that's not centred around men."

Carrie shrugged and took a sip of water. She wasn't sure if Scully could relate to any of this as the redhead seemed impervious to gender norms.

Scully met her eyes, then suddenly looked away, searching the restaurant. 

"Eyeing an escape route?" Carrie joked.

Scully drummed the table with her fingers, then seemed to come to a decision and suddenly spoke.

"Does this place serve alcohol?"

When Carrie explained that it did not, the look of disappointment on Scully's face surprised Carrie so much that she burst out laughing.

Scully responded with a self-effacing smile.

"You know, Mulder has been saying that I should make more female friends." 

Uh oh. Carrie had read enough about queer dating to be wary of accidentally falling into a friendship. While she rolodexed through ideas of preventing such an outcome, Scully seemed to gain enough comfort to continue. 

"What you're saying resonates with me. I spent many years centering my life and work around a man and his passions." 

"Your partner?" Carrie asked.

Scully nodded. She explained that for much of her partnership with Mulder she felt compelled to not only adopt his career ambitions but to take responsibility for his humanity – inevitably at the sacrifice of her own. 

"Of course, I didn't realize that's what I was doing. Neither of us did." 

Carrie did her best to continue emitting the comforting aura of a good listener. 

"It's not all his fault. I see now that part of what I was doing was using my work with Mulder as an anesthetic."

Carrie couldn't help but be fascinated. Both by Scully's casual use of the word "anesthetic" and by where this reflection was headed.

"In what ways?" she encouraged.

"To prevent the inevitable pain that comes from emotional attachment with others."

That was a mouthful even for Scully, whose downcast eyes now avoided Carrie’s.

Carrie was still searching for a response worthy of her dinner companion's confession and newfound vulnerability when Scully unexpectedly laughed.

"Did you bring your own silverware??"

Before Carrie could come up with a proper defense the server arrived with the food.

They spent the next several minutes in amiable silence as they enjoyed their meals. Carrie couldn't help but notice that Scully skillfully avoided landing one single droplet of sauce on her pristine white blouse.

The next time their eyes met Carrie took the opening.

"What do you desire right now..."

She let that linger for a moment.

"...when it comes to your relationships with others?"

Scully reached for a napkin, thinking this over.

"I envy you in a way. Despite the primacy of your relationship with your husband, you seemed to experience, or have a lot of..."

Carrie suppressed a smirk as she filled in the blank. Scully smiled in embarrassment.

"I don't mean to imply any knowledge or judgment..."

This was the opening Carrie was looking for. She needed to let this woman know, or at least suspect, Carrie's interest and intentions.

"Over the years I have dated many, _many_ men. And written all about it."

She paused to make sure she had Scully's full attention.

"But, there _is_ something I still wish to experience."

Carrie wasn't going to get more explicit than that, but she could offer something just as honest. She let her guards fall as she met Scully's eyes with a look of pure transparency. There could be no mistaking Carrie Bradshaw's attraction to the woman sitting across from her.

Scully's lips parted as she inhaled. In the long seconds that passed, Carrie examined every inch of Scully's face, the vibrations of her body language – with relief she concluded that, at the very least, Scully was not turned off by her overtures. Before she could decide where to take this next, Scully's phone rang.

It was Mulder.

As the conversation progressed it was clear that Scully was getting annoyed and she finally spoke up.

"Mulder, are you drunk?"

This prompted a raised eyebrow from Carrie. Scully impatiently answered a question.

"Yes, I had come to the same conclusion–"

Scully tried to wrap up the phone call. 

"No, no I'll deal with it right now. We've just finished dinner."

With this Scully glanced at Carrie and Carrie felt herself blush a little despite herself. Then it dawned on her that Scully was probably talking with her partner about her museum ghost. This swung her back to reality.

"Stay with Dr. Sharif. I'll see you at the hotel tomorrow morning."

Scully ended the call in a huff.

"I knew it. He just wanted to come up to Toronto to drink and talk shop with his old colleague. This was not nearly a substantial enough case for us."

This caught Carrie off guard.

"Substantial?"

Scully clued in that she had been talking out loud. Carrie's defenses reared up.

"I'm sorry that the literal ghost that's trying to ruin my career, not to mention my sanity, is not interesting enough for you."

Scully's expression softened.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking about how that would sound. We should head back to the museum now. I know how to settle this."


	4. Chapter 4

The taxi ride back to the museum was a silent one. Scully didn't want to discuss the details of the haunting in front of a member of the public and Carrie couldn't begin to express her inner cacophony of feelings.

Nighttime had completely fallen by the time they made their way into the front hall of the shoe museum. As Carrie punched a code into the alarm system she felt an uptick in her anxiety. Ghost or not, any museum was creepy as hell in the dark.

Carrie looked over at Scully to make sure she was still there and was met with an unsettling expression. She followed Scully’s stare to a brick wall. Literally, there was a brick wall where the front entrance used to be.

"Oh my gods."

Carrie vaguely noticed her pluralization, which was definitely influenced by her recent consumption of the TV show Battlestar Galactica. She thought Akira would be proud if she survived long enough to tell her coworker the tale.

Scully quickly regained her composure, took Carrie's hand, and led her further into the ground floor. It was their first touch, but Carrie had little time to register this as the permanent exhibition, _Footwear Throughout the Ages_ , stood completely transformed.

Carrie's first impression was that it was decorated for a party. A ghost party? There was really no other way to describe it. The streamers and balloons had the same wispy quality of her office apparition.

While she took this in, some movement caught Scully's eye and she spoke.

"Show yourself."

Carrie spied the 16th century Venetian velvet-covered chopines bouncily levitating. It was as if someone invisible was examining them.

When the ghost appeared Carrie recognized her at once. It was the same older lady from last week. This time she was wearing something different. It was a dress with a peculiar design. There was some white lumpy fabric wrapped around her neck that ended at her chest with an orange and black flourish. With a giddiness that sometimes accompanies terror, Carrie nearly broke into hysterics as she recognized that the ghost must be trying to pull off Björk's iconic 2001 swan dress. 

Perhaps sensing some judgment, the ghost's demeanor went from surprised to annoyed.

"I was not expecting you back this evening."

Scully quickly responded, ready to get down to business.

"My name is Scully and I believe you're familiar with Ms. Bradshaw. How should we address you?"

The ghost raised an eyebrow and then dramatically whipped her hair to the side.

"I'm Lady Catherine de Bird."

This threw Scully off for a split second.

"Nice to make your acquaintance Ms...de Bird."

Scully briefly exchanged a glance with Carrie. She clearly thought this name was amusing but Carrie was far too bewildered to share an eye-roll about a poor Jane Austen pun.

"Well now that you're here I'm afraid you can't leave. But I also can't have you mingling with the guests..."

As Lady Catherine pondered logistics Carrie finally found her voice.

"Excuse me, what the hell is going on?"

The ghost gave Carrie a condescending smile.

"My dear, I nearly forgot how inexperienced you are. Perhaps Ms. Scully can fill you in. As soon as I spotted her and Mr. Mulder I knew I could finally get some peace."

Scully, ever obliging to play encyclopedia, explained to Carrie that institutional hauntings tend to occur when the local ghosts disagree with a policy change. Carrie offered a meek head nod as if this made any sense to her.

Scully reminded her that she canceled the free library passes for the Bata Shoe Museum. Scully and Mulder concluded that if she reversed that decision the hauntings would likely cease.

"That's what we came back here to do." Scully finished.

"You see," remarked Lady Catherine, "I usually host the most eminent afterlife balls in the city. But I was forced to cease when you made that dreadful decision." 

Despite her disbelief, Carrie still felt compelled to defend herself.

"Those free passes gave off the impression that the museum is not worth paying for! I was hired to give the institution some prestige and exclusivity!"

Carrie suddenly felt embarrassed. Is that really what she felt called here to do?

Never one to be interested in another's inner life, Lady Catherine waved her hand in impatience.

"I honestly don't really care myself. But many of my newest, most fashionable guests tend to boycott party venues that don't support free public access blah blah blah. They're from the 1930s you know..."

The ghost shielded her mouth in conspiracy before whispering.

" _A bunch of commies._ "

It was Scully who responded first.

"Is it not a little premature to throw a party before Ms. Bradshaw has enacted the policy change?"

Lady Catherine went back to arranging the decorations with an air of indifference.

"Perhaps...but as soon as I saw you and your Foxy Mulder on the case, I knew you would figure it out. Unfortunately, now that you're here I can't let you leave for the rest of the evening."

As Scully tried to negotiate with the ghost Carrie took her phone out of her bag. It was dead.

"Oh, your electronics won't work until the morning. Now, will you please make yourself scarce for the rest of the night. I don't want to have to discipline you with any more corporeal or psychological manipulations. It's all very tiresome."

Scully sensed they were out of options and asked Carrie to lead the way to a discreet room to pass the night. Carrie numbly guided Scully toward a lounge that was tucked away in the basement.


	5. Chapter 5

As they made their way downstairs Carrie tried to calm her nerves. This is fine, she reasoned, maybe even ideal. After all, hadn't she been angling to spend the night with her beautiful dinner companion?

When they entered the room Carrie automatically reached for the overhead light switch but had enough presence of mind to stop herself. Nobody looks good in fluorescent. She fumbled her way to the janky floor lamp in the corner.

Now that the room was lit she took a survey of its contents: a couch, table and chairs and finally the kitchenette. Bingo. With relief she remembered there were a couple bottles of red wine left over from a staff party.

The only noise she heard was Scully draping her jacket over a chair. Scully watched as Carrie carefully placed two wine glasses on the counter. It suddenly felt very silent. Carrie wished her phone worked so she could put on some music. 

With a flash of inspiration, she remembered there was an old boom box hidden away in a cupboard. Akira had pulled it out for the Halloween staff party after unearthing a 1990s French Canadian kids holiday album. Involuntarily the chorus from the title track popped into Carrie's mind, " _C'est L'Halloween...C'est L'Hallooooween HEY!_ "

Fucking hell, there must be some other old CDs around. With increasing distress, Carrie rifled through boxes while Scully looked on with concern. 

She finally found two more albums: ABBA's Greatest Hits and the Requiem for a Dream soundtrack. The complete unsuitability of these music options finally made Carrie crack. Returning to the kitchenette counter she nearly dropped the bottle of wine and toppled the wine glasses. Scully rushed to her side.

"Can I help?"

When Carrie turned there were exasperated tears in her eyes. She placed her hand over her heart – the signature move of Carrie Bradshaw unburdening herself.

"There is a ghost upstairs. An actual ghost that we had a conversation with."

Scully looked at her with a soft expression.

"What does that even mean? Does everyone become a ghost? Am I going to be a shoe ghost??" Carrie proclaimed.

Scully chuckled and Carrie gave a half-smile.

"From the very beginning of my time with Mulder, "Scully said, "I witnessed all kinds of inexplicable occupancies. The only reason I'm not pacing the room in a fury of creative rationalization is due to my years of experience.

She took Carrie's hand.

"It's perfectly reasonable that you are overwhelmed. But I can promise you this, I will see you through this night."

Carrie took a deep breath and wiped the tears from her eyes. For a split-second, Carrie thought Scully was leaning in for a kiss, which sent up a shot of panic. After she regained her senses, she realized Scully was simply offering her a hug.

Carrie was slightly taller in her heels, but Scully wrapped her arms around Carrie's shoulders in a protective manner. Carrie's chin tucked easily into the nook above the other woman’s collar bone. Scully smelled good. A hint of vanilla and possibly cinnamon. For a moment Carrie let the aroma take her away. 

When she regained her presence of mind, Carrie let her arms enfold Scully's middle. With this she felt Scully relax into her and in response Carrie held her tight. She wondered about the last time this woman let herself be held. 

The embrace grounded Carrie and she was reluctant to let go. Unfortunately, she really had to pee. Carrie slowly unfolded herself from Scully and explained her predicament.

“Is there a restroom on this floor?” Scully asked.

Carrie led the way to the accessible bathroom down the hall. Scully took her hand again and explained that in situations like these it was imperative that they don’t split up. Carrie was more than happy to comply.

As the two women approached the bathroom door, they nearly ran into someone – or they would have if the person had a material form.

This new ghost grinned at them. As nonplussed as ever, it was Scully who spoke first.

“The gathering is upstairs. We agreed to stick to these lower quarters.”

“Oh, I know,” the ghost responded, “but Lady Catherine said there were some lesbians in the basement.”

“I’m not—” Carrie sputtered.

“Calm down 21st century,” The ghost interrupted, “I see your fluidity. All I’m saying is…you sleep with women.”

The ghost more closely examined a stunned Carrie.

“Or maybe you haven’t—”

She looked between Carrie and Scully.

“—yet.”

Then the brazen specter turned her gaze to Scully.

“Now _you_ have definitely slept with women.”

After a flash of embarrassment Scully recollected herself.

“Who are you?”

The ghost straightened up.

“I’m Laura. Laura Secord.”

The two women met this with a blank stare.

“Goddamn Americans,” the ghost of Laura Secord muttered, “Bet they haven’t even seen my Heritage Minute.”

Carrie decided it was time she tried taking charge of ghost liaisons.

“It was nice meeting you Ms. Secord,” she said primly, “but you must excuse me because I desperately need to urinate.”

With that, she turned to enter the bathroom and with a shock she realized Scully was following her in.

“We can’t afford to take any risks,” Scully justified, “Mulder and I made the mistake of getting separated at a haunted house once on Christmas Eve. Ghosts can’t resist toying with the living in those situations.”

Carrie found herself looking to the ghost for confirmation.

“Yeah, it’s true,” Laura Secord admitted.

On that note she waved a goodbye and drifted back upstairs. Seeing no other option, Carrie closed the bathroom door behind her and Scully. They stood awkwardly in the bathroom light.

“I can’t just pee in front of you,” said Carrie. 

Scully responded with an I-don’t-know-what-to-tell-you kind of look. Carrie sighed. She switched off the lights with the idea that the dark might make her forget that there was an attractive woman a few paces away.

Pants bunched at her feet, she perched on the toilet in the pitch-black silence. Her body simply would not release.

“Could you—” Carrie searched for some kind of solution, “maybe, I don’t know, sing or something?”

Scully let out a breath of surprise.

“I’m not really a singer,” she said.

“Well, I’m not really a urinate-in-front-of-people person!” Carrie clapped back. 

Scully was quiet for a moment and then finally spoke, “Fine, but I warned you.” There was another excruciating few seconds of silence. Carrie voiced her bladder’s scream.

“Now would be a good time!!”

“I’m trying to think of a song!” Scully shot back.

“Pick literally any—” Carrie was cut off with a sudden burst from Scully.

“ _I WILL BE YOUR FATHER FIGURE PUT YOUR TINY HANDS IN MINE!_ ”

There was a split second of silence before Carrie burst out laughing. The laughing made her pee which made her laugh even harder. Soon both Scully and Carrie were cackling hysterically.

When Carrie finally managed to finish up and flush the toilet Scully flicked on the lights. They were both wiping away tears.

“George Michael, eh?” Carrie grinned at Scully in the mirror as she washed her hands.

“I don’t know why that came to me,” Scully mused. “Come to think of it, I have no idea what that song is about.”

As Carrie dried her hands, she worked up enough nerve to ask her next question.

“Was it true what Laura Secord said about you?”

She braved meeting Scully’s eyes and was rewarded with a slight blush. Scully briefly bit her bottom lip. Carrie wondered if she would play dumb to this line of questioning. If Scully did, she was not confident she could come straight out and ask if she was interested in women.

The redhead examined the bathroom tiles for a moment before surprising Carrie with a tentative smile.

“I may have had a few adventurous nights in med school.” 

Carrie cocked an eyebrow and was formulating a response when Scully barreled on.

“I feel compelled to express an openness for a similar outcome tonight.”


	6. Chapter 6

Close to an hour had passed since the bathroom confession. Sitting on the couch, Carrie and Scully gripped empty wine glasses. Neither of them reached for the half-filled wine bottle a few strides away on the table. It was like they were worried that any sudden movement might break the spell. They had been chatting, borderline manically Carrie felt, about all sorts of topics from cigarettes to pizza to the nuances of Manhattan garbage odors.

Carrie thought she would go insane if she didn’t kiss this woman in the next ten minutes. A line from an Ariana Grande song kept looping through her mind: _a little less conversation and a little more touch my body_. Her and Scully both clearly wanted each other but it seemed neither of them could bring themselves to make a move.

Carrie Bradshaw couldn’t help but wonder, is this what it’s like to be a lesbian? (sorry)

Then it finally struck her. As a smart and modern feminist, Scully would be sensitive to power imbalances. While this was just another ghostly case for Scully, Carrie had a near breakdown at the experience. Perhaps Scully was worried about taking advantage of her in a vulnerable moment. If any sexual encounters were going to happen Carrie was going to have to instigate. 

Carrie kept up the conversation while considering how to make a move. She couldn’t just pounce on the woman. Could she simply ask her if she wanted to kiss? Carrie thought herself smoother than this. Throughout all this pondering Carrie had let her eyes slip down Scully’s legs.

Scully noticed her companion’s distraction and mistook it as scrutiny of her unremarkable shoes.

“I’ll have you know I can sprint down a dozen flights with these on,” Scully said as she examined her modest heels.

Carrie laughed and promised her she wasn’t judging. But this gave her an idea.

“What’s your shoe size?” she asked.

“Seven,” Scully answered with some suspicion.

Carrie smiled and swung her feet up for Scully’s appraisal.

“These are Manolo Blahnik bordosli slingbacks _and_ —,” Carrie arched an eyebrow at Scully, “I think they would look fabulous on you.”

Scully looked skeptical. She was good at that, Carrie thought as she removed her shoes in an air of challenge.

Scully sighed in acquiescence and took off her own shoes. When she reached for the other heels Carrie stopped her.

“No, let me.”

As she knelt in front of Scully, Carrie thanked whatever sapphic goddess was responsible for nudging her towards a pants-based outfit this morning.

Carrie’s heart pounded at the insinuation of their respective positions. When she came up with this plan she had no idea how intimate it would feel to be on her knees in front of the other woman. She thought she sensed Scully’s breath quicken but Carrie didn’t dare look up, yet.

Neither of them spoke as Carrie gently placed and buckled each of Scully’s feet into the heels. When she let them rest on the floor she left her hands lightly resting on the top on Scully’s insteps. 

Carrie let her hands travel up ever so slightly until she reached the cuff of the other woman’s pants. She knew she had to check in with Scully but she was terrified to meet her gaze. She swallowed and willed herself to look up.

“Do you want this?”

At first Scully couldn’t answer. She closed her eyes and took a breath before speaking.

“Yes,” she whispered before slightly spreading her legs.

Carrie was almost too captivated to continue. Then her lust beckoned and she ran her hands up the back of Scully’s calves. As she reached her thighs, she was overcome with a need to be much closer.

She raised up onto Scully’s lap straddling her hips as she placed one hand on the back of Scully’s neck. Scully reacted by anchoring Carrie’s waist with one arm while she untucked her shirt to free Carrie’s back for her touch.

Carrie drew Scully’s hair from her ear as she leaned in to whisper.

“I want you everywhere.”

It was true. She wanted Scully’s hands all over and to do the same to her. Carrie wanted to pin her to the couch, to push her against a wall to—

“Wow.”

Scully clearly also thirsted for motion as she managed a swift transition to her feet—all while keeping Carrie’s legs tightly wrapped around her waist. After she accomplished this feat, Scully took two strides to the table and planted Carrie on top. Carrie’s legs were still spread as Scully pressed into her.

“I always knew those heels held magical strength,” Carrie joked.

Scully smiled but her gaze held a weight that instantly made Carrie tremble in anticipation. As she leaned in, the redhead raised her hand to Carrie’s face, tracing her thumb across her lower lip. Carrie thought she might pass out from desire before she finally felt Scully’s lips against hers.

Now, Carrie Bradshaw was no novice when it came to kissing. She had participated in a number of incredible kisses throughout her years. But in her experience the best kisses came after her and her partner figured out each other’s bodies and rhythms. Figured out how best they fit together.

This was different. From the very beginning they were in harmony.

They started soft, exploring each other’s textures. Their lips only parting enough to accommodate the other’s.

Soon they both needed more, and Carrie found herself clutching at Scully’s shirt in an effort to keep her close. When their tongues finally met Scully let out a soft moan. This encouragement fueled Carrie to deepen the kiss.

They were breathing heavily when they pulled apart. Scully’s face was flushed.

“I hardly know what to do next!”

Scully said this with such openness that Carrie’s heart couldn’t help but swell with tenderness.

“I thought you were supposed to be the expert,” she gently teased.

“That was over twenty years ago,” Scully said, “and there may have been intoxicants involved.”

“That still counts,” Carrie said, “And besides, I think we’ve been managing just fine.”

The two women beamed at each other until Scully looked down at her feet and frowned.

“These heels are killing me.”

Carrie smiled and gestured for her to pass them over. Scully obliged and when Carrie strapped them back on her own feet she let out an exaggerated sigh of relief.

“I felt naked without them,” she explained.

“Speaking of…” Scully said as she began unbuttoning Carrie’s shirt. But Carrie stalled Scully’s progress with a clasp of her hand. Carrie stood up from the table, now a few full inches taller than the shoeless Scully.

“I’m the tall one now so I’m in charge.”

Scully gave her a playful look of reproach as she pressed in closer.

“I can assure you that is not how things work.”

She moved Carrie’s hand to her own waist. Then guided her up her side and over her breast. There she left Carrie’s hand and used her own to cup the other woman’s face. She gave her a soft kiss and then spoke into her ear.

“Undress me.”

Carrie’s heart pounded as she slowly undid Scully’s white blouse. When she was free of it, Scully unclasped her bra and slipped it off.

“You were taking too long,” Scully explained.

For a heartbeat Carrie felt breathless as she took in the other woman’s contours. It wasn’t just her naked body, it was the offering, and requesting, of touch and care this action revealed. Carrie hadn’t known Scully long, but she was sure this access was not one Scully gave lightly.

As Carrie regained her vitals, she bridged the gap between them. She stroked her hand over Scully’s naked breast as she spoke in teasing undertones.

“I’m sorry, did you want me to speed things up?”

With her other hand she tugged at a fistful of Scully’s hair to expose her neck. She licked and gently bit while Scully only managed a moan of response.

Carrie made her way around so she was facing Scully’s back. Meanwhile, Scully was attempting to shimmy out of her pants. Carrie tried to help but her hand in such close proximity to where Scully needed her forced the redhead to forget about the half-undone pants. She leaned back into Carrie and clutched at her. 

This was unknown territory for Carrie and she wanted to get it right. 

“Show me what you want,” Carrie breathed into Scully’s ear.

Scully wasted no time guiding Carrie’s hand. Her wetness instantaneously aroused Carrie who felt her instincts take over. She peeled the rest of Scully’s pants off, kicked open her legs, and bent her over the table. 

“Do you want me inside you?” 

“Yes,” Scully growled.

A little unsure at first, Carrie entered her with two fingers from behind. Soon Carrie’s confidence bloomed as they found the right rhythm and she let herself be overcome with the intoxication of the moment.

In time, she felt Scully’s contractions grip her fingers in orgasm. Her other hand had been resting on the small of Scully’s back which was now slick with perspiration. Scully shuddered as Carrie withdrew her fingers and she turned to face the other woman.

They kissed long and deep.

When they pulled apart Scully gave Carrie an appraising look.

“You have far too many clothes on.”

After they saw to that issue, Scully laid Carrie on the couch. She climbed on top of Carrie and pressed their bodies together. In reflex Carrie grabbed Scully’s ass, grinding her closer. Carrie wasn’t sure she could ever be pleased by regular life again after experiencing this sensation.

Soon, Scully had a request.

“Now you have to tell me what you want.” 

It took Carrie a time to sharpen her euphoric thoughts.

“I want more of everything.”

***

Hours later they lay tangled on the couch. The bulb in the lamp had long since died and the only light travelled in from a narrow window in the top corner of the basement room. It revealed a snowfall of a few centimeters: the ice crystals reflecting a glow from a nearby streetlight.

Scully was on her back and Carrie was tucked in beside her, their legs enfolded. They were both still sweaty from the evening’s activities.

Despite her fatigue, Carrie staved off sleep. She felt too alive in the splendor of this new connection. Enchanted, she sleepily kissed above Scully’s breasts, tasting the salt from her skin. Scully breathed in deeply and held her close.


	7. Chapter 7

When Carrie awoke, morning light filtered in from the small window. She was in a twist with a small throw blanket. As she began the slow process of detangling, she realized Scully was fully clothed and sitting at the table. Two steamy take-out coffees sat next to a magazine that Scully was dreamily flipping through. Carrie savored the opportunity to take in Scully unobserved.

She was pleased to see Scully was glowing. Carrie wondered if it was too early in the relationship to spontaneously sing Halo.

Scully must have sensed the attention as she turned and met Carrie with a soft smile. She joined Carrie on the couch with coffees in hand. Carrie found her shirt on the floor, pulled it on, and gratefully accepted the caffeine.

“It’s my order,” she said in surprise.

Scully explained that during their examination of Carrie’s office she had noticed the café name on Carrie’s mug. Earlier this morning she inquired at the nearby café if the fashionable woman from the shoe museum was a regular.

“Wow, those investigative skills could make a girl fall in love,” Carrie cooed.

Scully gave an unreadable look and changed the subject.

“Lady Catherine dropped the enchantments and she left you a note. Something about telling you not to worry, she’ll take care of The Dink?”

Carrie barely registered this news as she was wildly regretting saying the thing about falling in love. Maybe this was just a one-night situation for Scully. She did seem really committed to her work. But, so was Carrie. Oh gods, Carrie thought, maybe she was actually really bad at lesbian sex. But, last night her and Scully felt so close, so in tune, but she could be misremembering or—

“Carrie,” Scully said summoning her attention.

It was the first time Scully used her first name out loud and it gave Carrie goosebumps.

“I want to express…” Scully began.

She smoothed her shirt and tried again.

“I want to talk to you about last night but I’m finding it difficult to identify the appropriate vocabulary.”

Carrie had no idea if this was good or bad.

“Just tell me how you feel right now,” Carrie offered.

“I feel…”

Scully sighed. Then her eyes brightened.

“Have you read Wuthering Heights?” she asked.

“If you happen to mean the lyrics to the Kate Bush song then yes, in fact, I have,” Carrie said, “My friend Charlotte once dragged me on stage for karaoke and, let me tell you, that is one challenging karaoke song. She sings like six notes per word.”

Carrie took a deep breath and burst out:

_  
“Heathclifffff, it’s ME,_   
_I’m CATH-YYY,_   
_I’ve come HOME,_   
_I’m so CoooooOOOOOOoooLLLLDDDD._   
_Let me in through your windDOooooOOOOWWWWWW”_

  
Scully nearly sputtered out her coffee in laughter.

“I must say I feel a lot better about my George Michael singing now,” she said regaining her composure, “Unfortunately though, I was talking about the book.”

Carrie made a silent prayer to the gods to read every single English classic if it meant this brilliant weirdo would stay in her life.

“It’s OK, I’m a grown woman and can surely find my own words,” Scully began as she gazed into her half-empty disposable coffee cup.

Carrie thought if anyone could divine a message from an ecologically irresponsible container it would be Scully.

At last, she spoke.

“I feel at once dismantled and renewed.”

Carrie felt a tingle run up her spine.

“I have been satisfied with my life,” Scully continued, “Especially the last few years. I feel at peace with my decisions, with aging. But I know I still cloak myself from others.”

She swirled her drink in thought.

“I believe wholeheartedly that one can uncover higher knowledge from multiple avenues. I take meaning from novels, from science…” Here, she paused and fingered a small gold cross at her neck.

“…from considerations of metaphysics. And yet last night…”

Scully willed herself to meet Carrie’s eyes.

“Last night was transcendent.”

Carrie felt her neurons ignite as she tried to formulate an appropriate and heartfelt response.

“I have a really big crush on you!” she sputtered out.

Part of Carrie thought she should be embarrassed by this outburst but really she just felt as if she could float up to the ceiling in glee. Colour rushed into Scully’s cheeks and she let out a mix of a laugh and a sob. Carrie quickly pulled her in for a hug.

“Now that was more romantic than any Kate Bush source material,” she whispered into Scully’s hair.

Scully’s laugh was muffled in Carrie’s shirt and soon they pulled apart to look at each other. Carrie finally gave Scully her very best eyebrow cock.

“You know, I was thinking next weekend would be a great time to visit New York. Would you like to go on a date?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This is my first fanfic and it has a specific origin story I'd like to share. 
> 
> In June 2019 I suffered a concussion of which I'm still in recovery. During the worst months, I couldn't have short conversations without being overwhelmed with symptoms which left what felt like unending time alone with my brain. At some point, I remembered that I once joked about shipping Carrie and Scully. I wondered what circumstances I could invent to make me buy into those two hooking up. 
> 
> On my slow, short daily walks around a city park, I would imagine different scenes. When I was doing a bit better I began to interact with my friends over Whatsapp voice recordings. I told a few queer friends about the Carrie/Scully story and it turned into me delivering the story over short audio recordings that I would update about once a week. As I begin to approach using screens again it only made sense to try and write out the story. 
> 
> I cannot believe how much of a role this silly, heartfelt story has played in my recovery and I am beyond grateful for it. As I told my therapist (yes, I talked about this story to my therapist multiple times), ultimately, I hope this fanfic provides a bit of company for anyone out there going through a difficult time. 
> 
> Finally, thank you to L, H, and M for help with edits. xx


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